


Ascent

by awintersrose, KriKee



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Angst can be avoided when wounds are treated, Dom/sub Play, Dothraki!Jiraiya, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Mother of Dragons!Oro, Naruto Magic Week 2019, Prophetic Dreams, Seriously use basic battle dressing and clean wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awintersrose/pseuds/awintersrose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KriKee/pseuds/KriKee
Summary: The warlord Jiraiya returns from a raid, wounded, and refusing treatment. Orochimaru, his exile bride, manages to tempt the stubborn man into bandages and something more. In return, the warlord tempts his mate out of clothes and into sky-born dreams of conquest and peace.





	Ascent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lollipopgang71](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lollipopgang71/gifts).



> For Naruto Magic Week 2019 - Prompt "Skyward Bound"
> 
> The idea for this story came from a request from Lollipopgang71 for a GOT Mashup featuring JiraOro in these roles and we ran with it. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks and much love to shipcat <333

As far as marriages of convenience go, theirs has not been an easy one. A beggar prince from a foreign land, in search of allies to retake his rightful throne, wed to a foreign warlord for the sake of armed might. Opposites in every respect, with not even language in common, it has been a long journey of hearts across the northern steppes and desert plains. And yet, Orochimaru is satisfied, having found a place beside his mate, with hope as a constant companion. 

Jiraiya is a conqueror first and foremost, a leader in command of a khalasar of riders as vast as any great city. Orochimaru’s advisor insisted he defer to his husband’s position and power in all things, but from the time of their wedding, it should have been clear that despite his waifish appearance, the khal’s bride was no shrinking violet to merely submit to his mate. The naga-kin prince is more likely to snap an unsuspecting man’s neck for remarking on his frail bones that he is to truly cower to any supposedly greater man’s might.

Nor is he willing to allow his mate to let a simple injury go untreated, thus when Jiraiya arrives fresh from a raid with a deep gash across his chest, Orochimaru is not content to let the matter rest.

"Idiot oaf, sit down and shut up or I swear I will kill you in your sleep.” he peers at his husband with appraising golden eyes. “Though I won't have to if you let this wound fester. Your skin will rot and fall off."

"No, it won't," the warlord denies, though he takes a few steps towards their bed. "It's but a scratch."

" _Exactly_ why it will!" Orochimaru shoves him hard. “That poor excuse for a bandage looks utterly filthy.”

Jiraiya wavers but stands firm, though something warm flares in his stomach to see such a delicate man display a show of strength. And he says so in his barbaric tongue even as the smaller man orders his maids to fetch boiling water.

"I also need the powdered willowbark and glimmerleaf salve from my pack," Orochimaru orders, then turns to look at the khal with a smirk as his mate’s words catch his attention. He switches his speech to his husband’s language. "Oh does it, my sun-and-stars? Makes you hot?" 

Jiraiya just runs a large hand over the curve of Orochimaru’s hip. “Hot as the sands when the sun is high.”

"Then perhaps you should sit down and let me dress your wound. If you do then maybe afterwards I'll let you make a show of your prowess to all your riders." Orochimaru gives him one last hard shove and Jiraiya finally sits down, wrapping his arms around the naga-kin prince’s waist, pulling him into his lap.

"I said _after,_ " Orochimaru sighs, trying to resist, but there is a certain softness in his warrior mate's eyes, and he cannot help but find it tempting.

Fixed upon his goal, he removes the dirty bandage from his husband’s wound as his handmaid brings him a basin with cleansing water and a soft cloth. Orochimaru studies Jiraiya's dark eyes a moment before gently beginning his ministrations.

"Moon of my life, how you protect me so," Jiraiya croons, tangling his hand into Orochimaru's night-dark hair and kissing his jaw.

Goosebumps rise on Orochimaru’s skin almost immediately, and though his breath catches, he can't let himself become distracted from the task at hand. His husband is a tricksy one, especially when it comes to the promise of pleasure. "Tut-tut, not yet. I do protect you, which is why you must let me finish."

"And then I'll finish you," Jiraiya whispers, "I'll have you bedded and like a horse under halter. So willing and eager."

Orochimaru drips steaming water over his husband's chest, even as a warm flush colors his cheeks and his pulse quickens. "I suppose we'll have to see if your words come to pass, my sun-and-stars. Hold still, the salve might sting a bit."

His maids smile at each other as they hold the enameled containers out to him. There is no privacy in the khalasar, and his husband's prowess is known, celebrated.

Just as surely as his wild white hair has never been cut, and is braided through with victory bells.

Jiraiya absently draws a line across Orochimaru's mouth, imagining traditions outsiders wouldn't enjoy. "Nothing will hurt when you tend me."

The naga prince gasps lightly as Jiraiya's thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he distracts himself with picking up a piece of clean linen and dabbing a bit of salve and powdered willowbark over the cut. He covers and bandages the wound with a fresh length of fabric as his golden eyes dart up to meet his husband's, covertly waving the maids away. "See? That was not so bad now, was it?"

"Not at all, my moon," Jiraiya agrees, running his thumb across Orochimaru’s lip once more, "But why do you flinch when I touch you here?"

"Not because it hurts," Orochimaru smiles, leaning close. "Perhaps my sun-and-stars warms me all too quickly."

"Oh?"

Resigned to surrender, he picks up one of Jiraiya's hands and places it over his heart. "Do you see how my heart races at your command?"

"At any command?" The warlord teases darkly, white teeth contrasting with the tan of his skin.

"I don't know, perhaps you should try and find out?" Orochimaru raises an eyebrow, lacing his arms around Jiraiya's broad shoulders and sliding more solidly into his lap.

"Kiss me,” Jiraiya commands, and Orochimaru's heart thunders under his palm like their herd of horses galloping over the plains.

Shy at first, Orochimaru’s cheeks perk with a slight smile before he leans in to brush his lips gently over Jiraiya's, deepening the kiss by slow degrees. Jiraiya tugs on his hair, guiding him to the angle he wants, with his husband half swooning in his arms.

Spidery tingles run along Orochimaru’s scalp as heat bursts to life within his belly. He moans against Jiraiya's lips, fingers lacing into the softness of his wild mane of hair. The naga prince has never known such pleasure as in the arms of his mate. It’s as if a simple kiss could set him alight and he'd be lost to the conflagration.

"Ask me to command you," Jiraiya entreats.

As fun as it would be to disobey, to tempt his husband to roughness, Orochimaru is stirred to compliance.

"Please, my sun-and-stars…” Orochimaru whispers, kissing his jaw. “...command me. I am yours, after all."

His hips hitch close to Jiraiya's reflexively, eager. The deep tone of his husband’s response is an even greater temptation.

"On your knees then, pretty moon."

The words are like honeywine, making Orochimaru drunk, and he moves without conscious thought, feeling Jiraiya's hungry eyes on his body as if he were already naked. He sinks to the carpets of the tent without a protest, eager to serve his lord and master, his husband. He bows low, as a supplicant eager to serve, waiting.

They've played this game once before, and oh... it was sweet.

"Like a horse to a halter, I promised you." Jiraiya wraps calloused hands around Oro's head, clutching lightly.

"You promised, my Sun." Orochimaru looks up at him through dark lashes, eyes hazy yet daring. "Order me, then." 

"Fetch your things, and pretty ropes that I might train you."

Bowing slightly, Orochimaru moves to find the bit of silk and the length of rope that Jiraiya appropriated for these stolen moments. They’ve not ceased in their near-nightly experimentation from the pillow book that Jiraiya found among Orochimaru’s bridal gifts. He returns to present the silk ribbon and rope, resting on his knees just as prettily as before.

Jiraiya caresses his husband’s face, "Strip down for me, pretty moon. Show me your milk-skin."

Orochimaru shivers lightly at the contact, lashes fluttering, before he stands to unlace the sandsilk garments he took to wearing in honor of his husband's people. Jiraiya's eyes seem enraptured with his every movement and Orochimaru takes great satisfaction in watching his husband’s palm run over the front of his leather trousers, undoubtedly soothing the growing ache. 

Restraint is not necessary. Akamine riders take what they want.

Moments later, Orochimaru steps out of the loose split skirt, naked as the day of his birth, then shakes his hair free of the few loose braids that held it out of his face. As always, Jiraiya is awestruck by his beloved's ethereal form and he devours him with his eyes for some moments.

"I want you," he says, unable to make his words less blunt.

"You are a lucky lord, then. I'm yours," Orochimaru whispers, arms free at his sides, palms open in surrender.

"Hands behind your back, pretty one. You're going to show your balance when you ride me. If you fall, then there'll be a punishment," Jiraiya says, recounting words painstakingly translated from the bed book his husband brought with him.

"Yes my Sun, my Lord." Orochimaru plants his feet and crosses his hands at either elbow, craving Jiraiya's touch.

"Good boy." he kisses the tip of Orochimaru’s nose, then steps behind him to wrap the soft ropes in a twisting pattern around pale, slender arms already decorated with dark, serpentine tattoos. 

The ropes hold him as firmly as Jiraiya's arms and Orochimaru closes his eyes, letting the sensation carry him, along with the thought of moments to come. 

Jiraiya clutches Orochimaru tight to his chest until the smaller man’s breath edges with a faint rasp. It is then that the warlord releases him. 

"Are you ready for your halter, moon of my life?" Jiraiya tilts his head to the strip of deep red silk lying across the foot of the bed.

Breathless, Orochimaru can give only one reply. "Yes, my Sun. Make me yours entirely."

Wicked smile in place, Jiraiya stoops to whisper "I love you," in Orochimaru's ear.

It takes him a moment to realize his husband has said the words in the common tongue. The Akamine are indeed romantics at heart, Orochimaru realizes as his eyes close and he nearly swoons in truth. 

"And I you," he murmurs, meaning the words entirely.

"Thank you for what you do to me and for me."

"You give me your love and you _will give me_ the world," Orochimaru affirms with a fanged edge to his words.

"You make me safe, in ways only you can. I treasure your trust and the heart you give to me. When you're ready, open your mouth," Jiraiya whispers in his ear, only drawing back to watch his cues.

Orochimaru meets his eyes and parts his lips allowing the silk between his teeth.

"Tell me if your halter becomes too tight. We wouldn't want to hurt you."

At the softest sound, Jiraiya knots the silk and lets the reins hang down over Orochimaru's chest. He shakes the fabric from side to side over Orochimaru's chest, admiring how his nipples stiffen in anticipation.

Orochimaru's heart begins to race all the more, and he can see the burning satisfaction alive in Jiraiya's dark eyes as he's pulled to and fro. In this moment, he is his husband's most treasured acquisition.

"Look at you, my prize. The greatest treasure in all our caravan; strong as Valyrian steel and as delicate as concubine silks." He leads his conquest in circles around their bed. then sits and guides Orochimaru to walk another half circle, tugging on the silk ribbon.

Proud, elegant and graceful, Orochimaru moves as he’s bid, giving Jiraiya the beautiful sight he wants, and the sensual sway of skin he desires most. Heart a clash of staccato beats, he looks up at his husband, entreatingly seductive and eager.

Jiraiya strips swiftly, leather armor falling to the rugs with messy haste. "Come to me, my Moon. Take your place in heaven."

The rise and fall of his chest must look fast because it is, but Orochimaru lifts one knee, then the other, sliding up over his husband's lap to feel the heat of his burning skin so, so close. His eyes slip shut and he can't help but moan at the sensation of that small pleasure alone.

Heaven indeed.

"Your heart is racing faster than the war drums," Jiraiya remarks with a smirk, which only grows wider when Orochimaru gives a plaintive sound, undulating gently closer. "You'll sing for me, for our people. Let them know our power. If you ask nicely enough, I'll use the oil. If I think you don't, then it's just my spit and excitement."

Orochimaru's eyebrows shoot up and he makes an even more plaintive sound, nuzzling his husband, hoping to sway him towards mercy. He drops kisses along a stubbled jaw, grinding his hips ever so slightly, tantalizing Jiraiya as much as he dares.

Jiraiya sighs heavily, making a show of spitting in his hand and reaching behind Orochimaru. Oil bottle safely uncapped, he pours a small amount into his hands and runs an oiled finger between Oro's buttocks.

Awaiting discomfort, Orochimaru breathes deeply, trying to relax. _How did I displease him?_

His warlord mate wields double-edged words. "You only get what you deserve." With that he rubs circles around Orochimaru's passage and pushes the very tip of his finger inside.

Orochimaru cries out reflexively, but there is only the slide and press of his mate's digit slowly invading his body, no pain. He holds very still, pressing lips to Jiraiya's neck as his husband twists his finger gently, opening him bit by bit. 

"Only what you deserve," Jiraiya repeats quietly. He kisses the top of his husband's head, "And you will never deserve such pain."

Orochimaru sighs in pure relief, half eager to press back into him, but he will only take what he is given, and he mewls, breath hot against Jiraiya's lawline.

The warlord pushes in slowly, dipping in and out with excruciating care for almost two minutes before pulling back entirely. "Is there something you need, moon of my life?"

"You," Orochimaru replies, knowing it muffled and garbled, but he doesn't care, Jiraiya's finger teases just enough to make his eyes nearly cross with want. His husband won't be satisfied unless he has Orochimaru begging.

"Mmmm, what was that?" As Jiraiya speaks he pushes his finger in deep and fast, then withdraws just as quickly.

"You--ahhh!" The muffled words are followed by a near sob as Orochimaru thrusts his hips back, attempting to follow.

"I didn't hear you," Jiraiya sing-songs, tapping a pattern over Orochimaru's hole with a grin.

"You! You, you, _please_..."

"Very good. I love your opinions and needs." Jiraiya sets to opening Orochimaru as gently as he can; stretching out the prelude to their lovemaking long enough to drive them both to a fever pitch. He wraps an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders and holds him close, testing his resolve.

Orochimaru quivers in his lap, trying not to give in to temptation and push, forcing more and more, knowing he can take it. But he wants, Oh how he wants.

"Do you need, pretty moon?"

Nodding mournfully, Orochimaru looks into Jiraiya's eyes, pleading without words. It only spurs Jiraiya to action, slipping his hand between them and closing it around Orochimaru's hot cock. 

He gives it a very careful twist. "I can't hear you."

Orochimaru wails. "Yesss!"

"Work with me, lover. Show me your need."

Unable to defy him, Orochimaru moves at his urging, sinking into the movements of his hand, cries turning high and frantic.

Moving faster now, Jiraiya pours more oil over his fingers and sinks them deep into the other's tight passage with a groan.

Orochimaru keens, rocking back on his knees, with a muffled "Please, please, please..."

With a soft, victorious laugh, Jiraiya lifts his slight husband up, aligning his proud erection with Orochimaru’s slickened hole. 

"Yes, take what you need, my Moon," he says, waiting for Orochimaru to make the next move.

Orochimaru drives down with all due haste, eager, needy and hopelessly ready. It's almost too much for his senses, and he collapses into Jiraiya's chest with such a high cry it's nearly silent. 

Has he ever been this full before? Surely yes, but Goddess above, this is truly heaven.

"You're perfect," Jiraiya grits through clenched teeth.

The praise drives Orochimaru, helping him steel his nerves enough that he raises his head and fixes darkened eyes on his Lord's, before swirling his hips and making them both see stars.

Jiraiya cries out, shocked to stillness by the surge within him. He forces it back, wraps the silk reins on his hands and rocks Orochimaru hard.

The pull at the gag makes Orochimaru's head swim. He is owned, taken in hand and held, just as he holds his husband’s pleasure. Jiraiya's powerful guidance takes them ever closer to bliss and he welcomes it, fighting to keep his eyes open, wanting to memorize the sight of his beloved, lost to ecstasy.

Their ride seems unending, ascending higher and higher to a destination he can only dream of, and Orochimaru is overtaken by the rush of sweat-drenched skin and fervent need until Jiraiya's voice finally cuts through the haze.

"Come for me."

The command wrings another desperate cry from Orochimaru's throat and with the next downstroke and scrape of Jiraiya's length against his prostate, he lets himself tumble the rest of the way towards completion, hot wetness spattering his belly. Even so, his movements don't cease, as Orochimaru remains dedicated to bringing his husband the same pleasure. Luckily, his warlord mate is not far behind - the sight of Orochimaru's pleasure-wracked face tips him over the edge of oblivion, and he climaxes with a roar the whole khalasar is likely to hear. 

There will be no doubt of the khal's prowess this day.

Slowly coming back to awareness, Jiraiya rubs gentle fingertips up and down his beloved's spine and kisses the curve of his neck. "You were amazing. Thank you."

Boneless and spent, Orochimaru rests his full weight against Jiraiya, unable to move. He sighs a soft "you're welcome" sound, attempting a small smile around the gag.

"Let me." Jiraiya slips the silk from between Orochimaru's teeth and lets it hang around his neck, then releases the rope around his arms, giving them a light massage. "Did you enjoy your ride, my moon?" 

"I always do, sun-and-stars," Orochimaru murmurs, using what little energy he has left to tightening teasingly around his mate where they are still joined, making Jiraiya hiss through his teeth.

"You flirt," Jiraiya laughs, tugging the silken reins, "but I don't think you're ready for another ride. I know I'm not...yet."

"Perhaps not, but I'll still crave one... I'll always crave more of you." Orochimaru leans up to kiss his lips, clumsy in his fatigue and languor.

"You guide me," Jiraiya says. He kisses Orochimaru back, enfolding him securely in his arms. "Ready to rest a while?"

"So long as I get to remain by your side." Orochimaru blinks slow, gasping at the loss inside him as Jiraiya's softening length slips from his body. He clings, curling into his husband's chest.

"We'll rest. We've travelled long and fought hard the last few days. Sleep if you need to, love. I will stay here and read more of those books in your tongue."

"Ever the scholar, my sun-and-stars. As I learn your tongue, I have to say you've been learning mine quite well." Orochimaru smiles, kissing Jiraiya's cheek and tugging the furs up around them.

He grins. "The tongue has many uses."

"Indeed it does. Especially one so talented." Orochimaru's tongue darts out to tease the corner of Jiraiya's lip before he rests his head in the crook of his husband's neck and shoulder.

"Your tongue is especially useful. Maybe we'll practice on each other later," Jiraiya chuckles, tucking the furs even tighter around Orochimaru and cradling his still-flushed cheek in one large hand.

"As my sun-and-stars wills it so, I will obey." Orochimaru says with a sleepy smile that indicates such obedience may in fact not be the case, but it’s a fun pretense.

"I will it, because I want you to be happy." Jiraiya gently kisses his husband one last time, like a benediction of sorts.

And Orochimaru falls deeply, deeply asleep, with the wayward thought that perhaps this time the Goddess might have blessed them anew.

* * *

_Treachery’s deathly honey grasps and drowns. A child of ice and the depths between stars watches dancing, emerald shimmering flames flicker and collapse. The flute lies shattered, muted. The fang is crushed._

_The castle is silent, it creeps between his ears and the fractures of his heart and makes a home in the echoes._

_Stars burning under a bruise dark sky._

_A proud tower weeping blood and screaming defiance as the King returns, the Horse Lord at his side. Golden ropes at his feet, enemies falling like lightning struck oak at his approach, and the world shatter-cracks like ancient glass._

_The white horse crested sea thunders into the bay. Sweet, sticky shadows shudder and sink beneath the susurrus of sweet bells shattering the sky. An ocean bloodied pink and gleaming under the injured heavens._

_Dancing to the frenzied music of heartbeats, hoof beats, wing beats. A dizzy escalade of opal, ruby and leaves of vernal tourmaline crown the tower celebrant and the softest of music perfumes the ocean._

_The kunguro’o bells ascend and blades are reforged to bare the world. The sun, moon and stars burn the sky._

Golden eyes slit open and glint in the dark tent. Orochimaru yawns quietly, turns over and reaches out to his ever nomadic husband. “Come back here,” he slurs, riding the power of dreams. Orochimaru closes the sliver of space between them, nestling in his beloved’s loose embrace, and sleep retakes him.

_White hair, soot hair, eyes of obsidian and treasure, free laughter and a joyous scream. One son. A second. A third. A blessed trio._

When Orochimaru wakes again, he is snug and warm, wrapped in furs and his husband's arms. The khalasar is quiet in the predawn light, and he takes advantage of the rare boon, listening to Jiraiya breathe. The warlord is soft like this, beautiful. Orochimaru remains silent, admiring, still half caught in a dream of dragons and babies and a family reborn from ashes.

All in a towering castle keep he's never seen before. At least not in this lifetime.

The sun is brighter upon the horizon when Jiraiya wakes and looks down to Orochimaru's wondering face. "Slept well?"

The echo of the night’s dreams reminds Orochimaru once again of his position as the last of a line of priestesses. He cannot shake the images from his mind. Even so, he cups his husband’s cheek and smiles as renewed warmth fills his chest, "Yes, very well, my sun-and-stars. Did you?" 

"How could I not with you in my arms, and the memory of you all around me?" Jiraiya tugs the blankets higher, mindful of how easily his beloved chills. Like this, sleep-tangled and hidden from all the thousand enemies that hunt them, there could be no moment more perfect. He renews a private vow: to braid victory, boasts wrought in platinum white bells into his husband’s dark hair. 

"I dreamed of our children again. I think the Goddess is telling me something." Orochimaru grins.

"What did you dream? How many? Where?" Jiraiya leans up on one arm, dark eyes earnest and contemplative.

"Three sons. One pale as a pearl, one bright like fire, one vibrant as summer. In our castle keep. With dragons. Or perhaps they were the dragons."

His smile beams like the sun itself. "Three bright, warm children? Naga-kin, dragon-kin, like you?" he says, “Perfect. Though I would hope for a girl too, one day. One lethal as a host of blades, just like you."

Orochimaru’s expression grows gentle, warm and sincere, his eyes soft and fixed on Jiraiya's. "You truly wish for a daughter? Don't your riders want you to have many, many sons?"

"You dream of three already," he says with a shrug, "And Mama was Red-Bladed Yukari; she conquered much. Anyone who thinks a woman can't lead our people will be exiled, their horse butchered and fed to carrion birds."

"Then may we have as many beautiful children as the Goddess wills, male or female. I saw them and will love them with every breath." Orochimaru presses his forehead to Jiraiya’s, eyes closed in reverence - feeling something greater than them both shift and turn. A change in the wind, the distant call of a deity only he has cause to remember.

"Not so bad, our marriage."

"I wanted to despise you, even though I found you beautiful." Orochimaru presses a kiss to his chest. "Even though your touch set my skin on fire… and now you are my sun-and-stars. The light in my dark."

"And you are every mystery, every promise and guide."

Orochimaru kisses him, tender and sweet, running fingers through his long, long shaggy hair.

"We shall rule both sides of the ocean and subdue the world beneath our feet. Sun-and-Moon; a new dynasty." 

Orochimaru's golden eyes flicker with new fire. "So we shall, and our children after us, for generations to come. The usurper will tremble and be crushed, trampled beneath the hooves of a thousand of your riders' stallions." 

He will weave his dream into a tapestry and hang it from the walls.

"And you will rule as you should," Jiraiya affirms, his gaze fervent.

"With my king at my side."

"I rule the east, you take the rest; and our empire will be one on which neither moon nor sun set."

"May the Goddess make it so." 

**Author's Note:**

> Two little notes to answer potential questions even though this is a fantasy mashup so there are little to no rules - The Akamine are our version of Jiraiya's clan (Originating in Rose's fic Secret Ceremonials) made into an alt of the Dothraki, and as naga-kin Orochimaru's gender/form is not fixed, and he is able to bear children. 
> 
> We hope you enjoyed the story! Please leave a kudos or a comment to let us know your thoughts, we do love to hear from you<3


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